Blade Straight Steel True
by ceg-2002
Summary: A sniper haunts London, a sniper whose past haunts Dr John Watson. New Scotland Yard is in turmoil with the Olympics days away and Mycroft Holmes is missing. London is on its knees and Sherlock Holmes could not have found a better time to make a return.


**BLADE STRAIGHT, STEEL TRUE**

CHAPTER ONE

The rifle fire and the loud bombardment of grenade attack filled Watson's ears and nostrils. His head vibrate until his head grew numb from clinching his jaw. He could feel his hand tingling with awareness and he looked around for the enemy fire. Then he saw him. He was standing in the middle of the Kabul city centre,in his dark suit and dark blue scarf - Sherlock Holmes. "Take cover," someone yelled, but Watson and Holmes continued staring at each other. Holmes pulled his collar up and beckoned Watson to follow him- into the gunfire away from the rest of the British forces that enclosed the barricade. "Coming, Watson?". He whispered, unheard by the rest of the group. John Watson stood up oblivious to the rifle fire and the car sirens going off and walked thought the barricade. "Always, Sherlock.". He muttered taking the first steps towards the consulting detective.

Dr John Watson jerked upright in the bed shaking. Another nightmare. He moved his legs around the side of the bed and sat with his head in his hands. The medication that his therapist had prescribed had seemed to be working but the events of the last two weeks were taking their toll.

"John, are you okay?". Mary stirred besides him. He felt her hand move up his back, smoothing him. " would you like a cuppa?"

John picked up the mobile that was charging on the side of the bed. "we need to get back to sleep, you have work tomorrow." Mary Doyle was already up tying her gown belt. Her blond hair was disorganized and the bags under her eyes clearly visible, but her blue eyes were bright and awake. "everything is better after a cup of tea, John." She smiled sympathetically.

"It's okay. Mar.". Watson muttered but he knew that she was already downstairs putting the kettle on. He threw on the pair of trousers that he had thrown into the laundry baskets and climbed down the staircase of their rented apartment. Mary was in the cupboard. "Same dream?" she asked as she put spoonfuls of tea leaves into the teapot." "Yes, bit different , essentially the same. ". John replied sitting at the kitchen tale that they had brought at a charity shop. It's that meeting with Lestrade this morning. It is worrying." "Would you like me to go with, moral support and all. I could hold your hand.". Mary gently ran her hand through his hair, " it will be alright." "Lestrade sounded , I don't know , different on the phone. It has been a bad week, ". He put his hand around the cup of tea that Mary had put in front of him. May sat down opposite him. She was ordinary looking. Her only redeeming feature her brilliant blue eyes that were looking at John with both concern and impatience. Burying the ghost of Sherlock Holmes had come with a price and John appeared to pay every few weeks or so.

The first year after Sherlock's death had not been easy. His friends and, surprisingly, his family had closed ranks behind him. They had supported him through the inquest and the onslaught of the tabloid media that followed. He didn't like to talk about those dark days now. He had trouble recollecting how his life had been, how it had changed and how it had changed again. He remembered locked himself in a cheap London apartment and refusing to eat or see anyone until eventually Lestrade had several young officers break the door down as part of a training exercise. He remembered attempting to return to practicing medicine and then approaching the army for another tour of duty. However the army was downsizing and the daily life of a GP in the service of the National Trust was not enough to occupy his mind and his nights. When he was arrested for trespassing, Lestrade gave his a stern warning on the downward spiral his life was taken. Eventually it was Molly Hooper who asked him to start writing again about anything about Sherlock, the frustrating, annoying, arrogant and brilliant man that they had come to love. The blog was a god send, eventually a book deal followed. There were millions that believed the tabloid press but there were the five of them that didn't and for them Watson wrote his blog. Soon several hits turned into a hundred until a simply blog was unable to support the traffic generated. And then Mary had entered his life.

Dr Watson had been expecting Lestrade's phone call. He still had friends in the police force. New Scotland Yard was a ant's nest when he arrived hours later. Watson had asked for the cabbie to drop him off as far away from where the media were setting up as possible. He had had enough of the media to last a life time. He didn't want to have to provide them with a photo story, today of all days.

"Complete circus here today, gov." The cab said looking up the street. "Any idea what's going on?" Watson replied making conversation. There had been a time when he had read several broadsheets and tabloid before leaving the house in he morning. There wasn't even a telly in the apartment he shared with Mary Doyle.

"They had two more sniper attacks last night." the cabby said slowly. "All the news channels are here - like vultures. You be careful now Doctor Watson, I'll drop you off as close to the rear door as possible and phone when you need to come back. ". Watson muttered a thank you.

It was often like that, when he thought that his attempts at obscurity were working. At first he let his imagination run away with him and believed that London was full of Mycroft's minions. But it seemed Sherlock's reach was wider then John had ever dreamed and he believed then Sherlock himself knew. "

Dr John Watson" he replied to the desk Sargent. In truth Matilda knew him quite well, but he was anxious not to seem over friendly with the Met after all that had happened. "DI Darrow and DI Lestade are ready for you, Dr Watson. If you could follow me?".

Watson flinched at the mention of DI Darrow. The DI from Manchester had worked Sherlock's suicide and the investigation into his suspected involvement with various crimes. She was a tough, no-nonsense police woman who was anxious to prove herself in London. The Holmes-Brooke suicides had been a god send.

Watson greeted both the police officers as he sat down and the duty officer made her retreat. He didn't know if Darrow knew about his friendship with Lestrade so he kept it very formal and impersonal. "We apologize to call you down here, Dr Watson. "

Darrow began. She wore a power suit that appeared to make her seem more masculine. " I presume you are following the investigation into the evidence tampering by SOC Officer Marshal Anderson. ". Watson had spend much of the morning in front of Mary's vanity mirror attempting to perfect his reaction disbelief, irrelevance to simply shock. His training however left him and he merely did a combination of shrug and head shake. He muttered that he only knew what he had heard on the radio and glancing at DC Lestrade. He hated lying to the detective who had done so much on his behalf. He quickly added that he had never liked Anderson personally.

DI Darrow quickly continued, either she had believed him or more then likely didn't care either way. "The team that is investigating the allegation found a mobile in his apartment. Could you identify it for us? ". Watson remained confused for a while. Then he picked up the mobile in the plastic evidence bag and passed it from one hand to another. One mobile looked much like another. But then it clicked. Sherlock's mobile had not been recovered. It was not found to be on his body as expected. But Sally Donavon had said nothing about a mobile.

"Sherlock had a black iphone , no cover case. There was a deep gash on the battery, where he had attempted to open it. I have his PIN details if it will help." Darrow had already opened another evidence envelope on the table. She took the mobile from where Watson had placed it back on the table and turned the mobile, removing the battery and showing the damage to Lestrade.

"What was he attempting to do?" she asked as she closed the back cover. "Experimenting,". Watson replied, it was sort of true.

"The messages, texts, photos of the mobiles are intact. We knew it was Sherlock Holmes' but we needed a formal confirmation. "She returned the phone to the brown envelope and crunched it slowly with nails closed. "I honestly don't know how to explain this or to move forward from here. We have to reopen the case, yes as soon as we have contact Mycroft Holmes which I sure you understand I really don't want to do." Watson smiled. Mycroft Holmes had been a permanent thorn in the police collective butts during the investigation and at the inquest.

"Alright then,". Darrow suddenly announced as if she had finally discovered the greatest answer in the universe. "This is going to be a PR disaster whatever way we dish it up for the press. The recording on the mobile would have saved us the time and the money of the inquest. As soon as I have spoken to that man, Holmes," she spat it out of if it was something revolving, I will make a formal public apology, I doubt that Mycroft Holmes will demand less, clearing his brother of all wrong doings and such. Of course we are going to have to come to a financial arrangement as well. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. I will talk to the Chief Constable immediately."

"A recording? Watson asked as Darrow stepped outside. Lestrade nodded, his face suddenly beaming. All this time we were looking for a smoking gun to prove Sherlock's ability instead we should have been looking for a recording iphone." he continued about how he intended ripping Anderson's vocal chords out of his anus, but Watson was long lost in thought.

Can I hear it ?

Lestrade stopped, "Sure, have to warn you it is a bit odd, but Moriarty wasn't exactly there upstairs and well, Sherlock might have been trying something, we will never know," he stopped short. "I promised that I would have him exonerated, and I think that this will do that." Watson nodded. He had hoped and prayed for this, but he wished to had the detective inspector's optimism.

Several hours later Watson was waiting at a coffee shop for Mary. He had agreed to inform her about how the meeting went and had called her shortly after leaving Lestrade. She was elated and had pressed that they come for celebratory coffee. Watson had also phone and left messages at Mrs. Hudson's. She was currently away visiting her daughter in Bristol and hasn't taken her mobile with her. The professor who rented 221B from her , took a message and promised to phone Watson back shortly with a number where she could be reached. He also texted Molly Hooper. She had moved to the King George's after becoming fully qualified. Watson felt embarrassed that he had failed to keep in touch. Stamford had and assured him that Molly was doing wonderfully and she was even seeing a wonderful bloke.

He was watching his mobile, wondering if he should phone Mycroft, when it started beeping an incoming text.

- _Are you alone_?

He shrugged, in a crowed coffee shop, - Yes -

_Didn't know of mobile, couldn't warn you. Do they suspect anything_? -

_No_, he replied. Watson hoped they didn't, again he felt horrid about misleading Lestrade like this. He quickly added. _We can't keep doing this_." -

_Agree, worked out well. For both of us SD_

Watson smiled as he read the last part. But was it really over - essentially the recording changed nothing. Sherlock was still dead. As was the man the police were now calling James Moriarty. At least the police had woken up to the fact that Moriarty was not a figment of Sherlock's imagination and in the recording had him pretty much confessing to everything. That alone should feel like a victory, but it didn't. Knowing that Sherlock died to protect Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and himself, was the problem. It was an unselfish act of valor preformed by a man that many believed unable to feel and understanding the purpose of friendship. And there was nothing Watson could do to repay him for his sacrifice.

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